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Tuesday, 24 September 2013

In 1931, Hubert
Barnes married Nora Tydeman, but it was apparent from the moment of the
honeymoon that, sexually, the marriage was not going to be a success.
Nevertheless, they stayed married until 1958. In 1932, Hubert began an affair with Constance Dart, which lasted until it was starved by petrol rationing in the war - by which time he had started a new affair with Mary, whom he married in 1958.

Hubert's
Poems for Constance Dart, 1932

In
a Motor Boat, Scilly, Whitsun, 1932

I watched the changing
pattern of the sea ;

Saw the white sand

Green through its
clarity,

Patterned across, where
the tide's hand

Passed restless fingers
through

The wavy leafage of the
rocks,

By deeper blue.

Mind patterning mind,
choice crossing taste,

Dear converse's leisure
shot through by passion's haste,

And joy in laughter
marked by sleep that calms

The body's fever in a
lover's arms -

So gazing in the
crystal of the sea

I saw in blue and green
your love for me

Ford
to Stow in the Blue Train, Sunday night

The dying leaves golden
upon the roadside

Beneath the shafting of
our hurrying light ;

The stars, the Plough,
old Andromeda,

Hang in the eternity
between the trees to-night.

Houses where men have
loved and prayed and died,

Once golden, grey with
age, cast back our light ;

The owl that
Shakespeare heard in Arden

Hoots in the woods
to-night.

Could we stop time and
check it as I check

The car that carries us
towards our bed – and night,

Then we would mock the
stars that mock at lovers,

Put out their light as
I put out the light.Still round the darkness of our tiny covering

I hear the rush of the
leaves' pattering feet,

I know that times goes
on, goes on, dear lover,

That death and love
must meet.

Yet I believe that we
shall love forever

Within the dash board's
failing light

Because within the
circle of your arms, my Constance,

Time does standstill
to-night.

Listening
in, Wednesday Night

As 'thwart the
thrusting wind and eddying rain,

November urgent on the
trembling pane,

In clear and ruffled
pattern is the calm

Design of music,
heedless of the storm ;

So Con it seemed
to-night our love should be

Athwart the storm of
life, unfettered free

Fragment

Daphne to laurel grew,

And Constance too

Above the roofs of
London Town

Put off her black

And dons her green silk
gown,

But not for me

As for Apollo

Changes to a tree.

Retrospect,
November

Dear memories of the
growing dusk,

The failing light, and
tea

At half past four with
crispy toast

In distant Banbury.

And how we climbed
Stow's twinkling hill,

Through the October
gloom,

The friendly chiming of
the clock,

The firelight of our
room.

The books we tried so
hard to read,

The clothes behind the
door,

Your new pyjamas in the
bed,

The pillows on the
floor.

The sound the brush
made in your hair ;

Your powder puff. The
line

Of your dear breasts
beneath my mouth,

Your body kindling
mine.

The scent your hair had
with my lips

In the hollow of your
eyes ;

The softness of your
body

When I lay between your
thighs.

The pounding of my
heart on yours

Our bodies mingled
deep.

Passion that ends in
laughter,

Laughter that ends in
sleep.

About
40 Years Later, by Constance Dart,

The Lonely Lady, at Uskadur

« Are you alone
here, English lady ?

Where is your man ? »

I am not wed.

« You have a
mouth for kissing, lady. »

When I was young one
warmed my bed,

But he has fled.

« Lonely lady, no
more lover,

Lady with bosom to rest
a head. »

Later came one whose
heart was weary ;

Came and rested his
troubled head :

But he is dead.

« Lonely
lady..... ? »

* * * * * * * * * * * *
*

Letter, 1947, from Nora
to Hubert.

My dear Hu – This is
my third attempt to find an adequate answer to your letter. Of course
I have been most wretchedly unhappy. The simple happiness that most
commonplace people seem to achieve so easily is quite beyond my
reach. In being maimed myself I feel that I have hurt you. I really
am not capable of being very objective about the matter at present. I
do not think marriage without physical intimacy can possibly be
considered as a permanent arrangement, and my own inadequacy in this
respect has been made worse by the habitual insecurity of our
relationship – the knowledge that I was always second best. I think
I could have achieved a good and happy relationship of this kind with
someone physically more suited to me, but we have clearly not so
suited – that seems to be that. Bodily chemistry can upset all
one's hopes and plans and good intentions. Also I feel now really
tired with the conflict. It is true that I feel that I simply cannot
make any more effort about it. And again, I am older than you –
another bad mistake. We should have had the courage to separate years
ago. It would have saved a great deal of suffering. What I have done
for you – and I am glad I have done something – is what a good
friend could have done. That is what we should have been. You on your
part have opened my eyes to many things that would have passed me by
– your love of beauty, your pleasure in simple natural things, your
kindliness, all these things have become so much a part of my life my
life and of me that I cannot imagine life without them – and how I
shall miss your jokes. And in spite of the difficulties I shall
terribly miss the only person who has ever come close to me. How much
mere touch means – it comes before speech and is infinitely more
reassuring. How cold life is without it. The incredibly insensitive
harshness of my early life made me shrink from it – I could not
trust it – that I suppose is at the core of my failure, so simple
and yet so fundamental.

I shall not always feel
so unhappy. Ordinary life breaks in and one cannot live at such a
level, and there is no one here to talk about it – if I could bring
myself to do so.

I already feel a little
better for having said so much and the load of lead which has been on
my chest for days is somewhat lighter. The trouble with me is that I
cannot take things lightly, and I haven't the sort of sense of humour
to cope with difficult problems like this.

You asked me : Did
I want to sleep with you ? The answer is Yes a thousand times if
only I could feel sure of your confidence in myself, but these two
conditions are not satisfied and every time the sense of impending
fiasco gets me down.

I don't think however
long I go on writing I can get any further at the moment. What I want
just now is your shoulder to cry on - and this is hardly a suitable
letter to send to an invalid.

Yours lovingly, Nora.

Nora to Hubert, August,
1947

My dear, was glad to
get our letter though I have not had time to answer it till now. Yes,
of course, Hilary has been worthwhile. I have delighted in him, and
in your companionship with him. He has satisfied maternity, but that
is not the same thing as an adult relationship. You do not find
fatherhood sufficient and no normal woman should find maternity
sufficient – tho' she may have to, and perhaps then only in
'sublimated' form. I was too immature to form an adult relationship.
I understood at 50 what I should have experienced at 20. However I do
perhaps understand my own failure and I hope I shall not be crabbed
about it.

All my love, Nora

Nora to Hubert, August,
1942

My dear Hu, Very many
thanks for your letter – both parts. Women as you know get a
peculiar satisfaction from having someone to look after even when
they curse the bother ! I often realise when you are away par
exemple how deadfully I should miss you and having to « do »
for you, and also I feel dreadfully inadequate that I can't satisfy
all of you. At the same time I don't seem to know any marriages where
both partners are competely satisfied all round! There are supposed
to be such. I know that you are fond of me and I of you and that we
both love Hilary – and there is a whole lot of satisfaction in
these three facts. I consider myself rich in many things – we all
have to be poor in some I suppose.

We are all set for
Tuesday [we were going for a holiday in Cornwall]. Hilary is
nearly beside himself, as you can imagine. Sambo got acute distemper
and I took him to Machin to be destroyed. Hilary is already planning
to have a little girl kitten who will grow up into a muvver, and has
added the festival of 'Nasty Friday' and 'Cash Wednesday'. Hilary
Daniels controlled herself with difficulty when this came out at
supper.....

* * * * * * * * * * * *
* *

Two Poems by Nora
Tydeman, address at the time 1 Lansdowne Road, Bedford, which probably
dates them to her period as a school teacher between her London
University English degree course and her later psychology degree
course (to which students were not admitted until the first degree
was followed by three years work experience). This suggests the poems
were written in the early 1920s.

Disinherited

Once, the brown earth
upturned between my feet,

There sprang within me,
swift and passing sweet,

A pregnant thrust of
life. The wild flower knows

That urgent quickening,
and awakes, and grows.

And in that moment, I
and the Earth were one :

I shared the secret of
wind and sun,

And river; sang in my
heart their song.

Knew Beauty to be
Truth, and was made strong.

Sometimes I see no star
within the night.

Behind the shadow no
transfiguring light.

Thy wonder, Earth, is
there, but dark to me :

Only the meek of heart
inherit thee.

N. M. Tydeman

As you pass by, perhaps
I shall be there,

And in my heart will
spring a joy like pain,

To feel the sudden
quickening in the air,

And know the swift,
awakening touch again.

I have set sail upon
Life's unknown sea :

I think where 'er I go
that I shall find

The miracle that is a
part of me.

Shall know all darkness
has the sun behind.

N.M. Tydeman

[From a later
collection of Nora's verse, this one probably from the 1970s]

Not
Hungry, Only Starving

“No,
I'm not hungry,”

Cries
the old woman.

“No!
I couldn't touch it.

Not
without a touch of love.”

They
bring me food to keep my body going.

It's
only inside I am dying.

Silence
fills the room through the telly's chatter.

That's
what's the matter.

“If
only you would share my cheese and soup

It
would be bread and wine.”

* * * * * * * * *

Hubert's Poems for Mary
Pierce, who became his lover in January, 1940, when they went for a
walk on the Berkshire Downs near Streatley, and whom he finally
married in 1958.

The
Downs

I can recall our Downs
in many colours,

Gay with bugloss,
crowned with clouds in May,

In winter the trees
dark above the furrows

Marked by powdered
snow, and failing day

Touching the distant
hills with gold as we retraced

Our footsteps through
the dusk with fingers laced;

But more than colours
that the days have lent

Does tour dark beauty
give me my heart content.

The
Garden

February

You came bearing
flowers of spring, yet snow

Covered the garden in
the light of morn.

We heard the clock
chime, but there was no flow

Of song at dawn.

May

I felt you stir within
my arms as light

Revealed to us the
wallflower's golden flame,

And touch, the eye of
darkness, changed to sight,

And spring was Queen
again.

July

We saw the moon rise
huge through summer's haze,

Paced linked on turf
wet with summer's dew;

We kissed beneath the
walnut's leafy maze

And pledged our love
anew.

November

And now the rustling
leaves tell of your presence,

You come to me beneath
the autumn sky,

Chestnuts are bare, and
yet the fir still whispers

'My love and I'.

1941

'When
Peace Returns'

When peace returns we
will rebuild the pattern

Of life we used to
know, for still I dream

Of country where we
moved across the hills

To reach the sea and
stood upon the rocks

As the sun sank, and
went and came at will,

Passing the uncrowded
days, the world forgot,

Without fear of
expectation

Disappointed.

The shallows greener
seem, the deeps more blue,

The sand more warm to
feet than sand we knew,

And only curlews call
upon the marsh

When evening comes,
where now the bomber's drone

Disturbs the silence.

Then I will carry in a
haversack

Fruits from the isles
of Italy and Greece,

Sweet Spanish grapes to
press upon your lips,

Spreading our meal upon
a granite slab

Among the heather,
where the summits rise in blue

Beatitude.

Across the sea
mountains will call you, Mary,

For sloping meadows
wait in flowery dress.

There my imagination
walks beside you

To share the silence
lovers make heir own.

Crossing war's
barriers, even as a pilot,

Girdling like Ariel the
narrow sea,

Is carried by a power
infinite upward

Till, human distance
vanquished, like an eagle

He sees the Alpine
snows!

1942

A
Sonnet to Commemorate June 1st and June 2nd, 1941

A year ago on that June
day we went

Over the windswept
Downs and saw below

Across the patterned
fields Avebury, pent

Within its earthwork
ring. I loved you so

My heart sang, Mary.
All things gave assent

To our linked arms and
interlacing hands,

The cowslips danced,
the fir trees sighed content.

I picked a sprig of fir
to send you after

We had returned and
left the Downs again,

This to recall our
private world of laughterBeside the twilight stream and
blue-belled lane

In Sunday's warmth, in
Monday's wind and rain.

To-day a year of
water's passed the leat,

But like your spray our
love is no less sweet.

Return

The light has faded.
Come, Oh come, dear lover,

And fill my heart which
beats for your return.

The day is done that
parts us from each other

For I have watched time
pass and distance turn

To nearness.

The train has stopped.
Persephone anew

You rise to greet me
from the wintry earth,

And bring him riches
who would always strew

Your ways with
happiness. Affection, warmth,

Companionship and
pleasures shared you bring,

Flowers and deep music,
hills and trees in spring -

These in a narrow bed
when you are there

Within the compass of
your arms you bear.

Your steps are quick,
and now upon the stair floor

Clear sounds the rhythm
of your hurrying feet.

Our lives rejoin.

Oh Mary, this wide door

Through which you pass
my welcoming lips to greet,

Stands as a symbol of
the central core

Your body holds,
through which I pass to meet

Your spirit joined to
mine till both are one, complete.

5th December, 1942

The
Emperor Concerto

Through the misty
winter's gloom

Of a December afternoon

A thousand people sit
in rows,

The violins sing, the
woodwind blows,

And high above the
trumpets blare,

Pianoforte fills the
air,

Tracing among the
lamps' high beam

The thread of an
imperial theme,

Striding across the
roof's great space

In lovely arabesques of
grace.Yet I confess I cannot see

The sound filled hall's
immensity.

My kingdom here's a
little space

Within your fingers'
warm embrace.

Upon the stage the
fiddles bow

In ordered movement to
and fro;

At beck of the
conductor's arm

The troubled rhythms
sink to calm

Or in tempestuous
courage state

The challenge of
mankind to fate.

Oh lovely sound that
can embrace

Such immaterial mystic
grace!

Oh courage of a lofty
mind

To triumph when the ear
is blind!

Oh paradox that makes
us free

Of crowded contiguity,

And in the midst of
many men

Gives us our solitude
again!

For here are only you
and I

In face of Art's
immensity.For us alone the violins sing

Their treble accents
echoing,

For us alone the airy
maze

Is patterned to the
trumpet's phrase,

For us alone the
movements go

Andante to Adagio.

Linked thus together
hand in hand

And listening so we
understand

Through the concerto's
soaring art

The secrets of the
inmost heart.

Albert Hall, December 6th, 1942

'The
Cowslips tall her pensioners be'

Only the vaulted fern
in sight

To roof thee with
viridian light;

The walls the stems, an
endless forest;

Thy bed of ferns of
last year's harvest.

Gay willow herb to deck
thy house,

The squirrel and the
rustling mouse

To watch with an
incurious eye

The secrets of our
ecstasy.Here shall they heart enraptured be

And lover's arms
encompass thee.

21st July, 1943

Albert
Hall Promenade

High in the vault we
live as in a dream;

Colour is quenched,
people are silent shadows

With insubstantial
footsteps, faces seem

As marks of bone or
wood.

The eye looks through
dim arches, yet I see

No object for the
sight;

The hooded lamps throw
down their beams,

I cannot trace their
flight.

But love is not a
dream; my arm shall hold you

Feeling your weight
under its circling ring,

And as the music
reaches upward to us

My heart shall awake
and both our hearts shall sing!

February 20th, 1944

Lines
on the Downs

Come climb the track
between the flowering lime

To reach the bare high
beacon on the hill,

To lie upon the turf
whose scented thyme

Collects the bees to
drink their hungry fill

Of wind blown nectar.

Here is distance, peace,

Lark song and peewit
call, the sighing wind

Blown across the graves
of ancient men

Long dead. The turbid
city and the crowds,

The inhabitants of
another world,

Are far away. But not
as strangers here

We stand; the wind
blown distances are yet

Familiar to us, and all
that we behold

Gladdens us with
memories of other years

We walked these hills
together; in snow, in frost,

Across the plough in
spring and through the harsh

Short spikes of autumn
stubble; trudging home

Through growing mist,
or seeing the round moon

Hung low upon the
hills; nor strangers here

To one another do we
wander still

In handfast love and
quietness, knowing well

That all the beauty
that we here perceive,

And all the pleasure of
the downland scene,

Hereafter will inform
our mutual joy.

June 30th, 1948

Six-Jeur
to Fenestrale by the High Path

Symbol of life, the
path climbs very high

Between the mountain
and the lucent sky.

Then kiss! From busy
village far below

The distance veil us.
Here we truly know

Freedom from earthly
care, a rising joy,

A lightening of the
load of chore and ploy.

Though here's a tiny
path, a hair to part

And cross the mountain
side, yet in your heart

Secure I stand. Pause
and reach down and feel

Our fingers grasp.
Linked by their tender seal,

Still climbing, life
will draw us on

From earthly places to
the sky's high throne.

December 25th, 1952

Morning
at Paddington

Though to-day we part
our way,

You to work and I to
play,

Images of warmth and
joy

All live on. Still I
employ

The tongue to touch,
the hands to feel,

The lips the hidden
eyes to seal,

The finger tips o'er
skin to move

To trace the anteroom
of love,

And muscles then to
turn and lie

Where sword is sheathed

In ecstasy.

January
3rd, 1953

The
Flowery Pilgrimage

Sweet chimonanthus
greets the year

And soon the snowdrop
spikes appear,

Pushing through the
damp their way,

Jewel like upon the ear
of day.

Within their moss-lined
box they bring

Dear memories of
wartime spring

And of the darkened
city where

We made our journey to
Cythère.

Red polyanthus thus
fringed with green

Provide a posy for my
queen.The daffodils, narcissus too,

Recall the scents and
joys of Kew,

Scattered like stars
below the trees

In gardens of
Hesperides.

Maytime the cowslips
wave among

Long grasses by the
lonely barn,

And tiny milkwort's
azure eye

Repeats the blue of
summer sky.Picnics are here, then let us go

To saunter where
azaleas grow,

Touch rhododendrons
spotted lips

Where Cliveden's lawn
to river slips.

Scented July will watch
us climb

The lane all sweet with
tasseled lime.

And when the autumn sun
shines low,

About the copse's edge
we go

To break the brittle
spindle, red

With flame like glow
above your bed.

Now winter's dark has
come again,

Unfold the white
coiffed cyclamen,

A group of nuns upon
your shelves

They nod in talk among
themselves,

But play that leads to
Venus prone

They disapprove, nor
look upon.

(With city violets and
carnation

She's courted in
another fashion!)

So let the flowers, my
love, for you

Fresh pleasures bring
and past renew.

February 6th, 1953

The
Thimble

Tiny the gift, and yet
the heart in choosing

Quickens its pace,

Imagines fingers moving

With dextrous grace.

Slender the finger yet
its shell of steel

Defends, protects from
harm;

Tender the heat yet not
afraid to feel

In understanding's
arms.

Outward the silver
shines

In glittering form;

Inward the spirit lies

Secure and warm.

Empty the cup awaits

Fulfilment's finger;

Naked the body seeks

Complete surrender.

December 29th,
1953

The
Veil of Ariadne

Accept, dear love, this
silken rail

As soft as Ariadne's
veil,

Which swirls, her
beauty opening wide,

The curves one privacy
to hide,

Like wind-filled sail.

When you put off your
daytime dress,

Let this silk gown
your skin caress,

As light as lips that
gently pass

Across your brows, or
breath on glass,

Nor less, nor less.

So by the veil's
transparency

Your body's form
revealed shall be,

And gossamer your grace
express,

Adding to that fresh
loveliness,

A lucency.

Your leaf-crowned
Bacchus cannot fail

To draw back Ariadne's
veil!

Translucent, yes, and
light as lawn,

But to desire it sets a
bourne,

A pale.

So think not through
this gown he brings

He has no other
offerings,

And keep your veil.
This silken shift

His hand above your
waist would lift

A furléd sail.

January 27th, 1954

The
Wish

I want each day to be
wcrowned by affection,

That heavenly gleam,

The wren going into the
nest; and connection,

Walking hand in hand
along paths with yew hedges

And under beech leaves
in the spring. The green sedges

At the Chinese temple
for tea,

And the scent of
azaleas, and privacy, you and me

By the fire.
Expectation and likeliness

Of your coming, and
seeing you walk from the press

Of people, and leisure
and time, and the feeling of continuousness.

February 7th, 1954

The
Gifts of Ariadne – the Ring and Crown,

Life is a bond
two-stranded – yours and mine -

Twisted about with
seasons, days and years,

The pattern of our
several weeks which twine

Like bedded lovers.
Larks above, half heard,

On Down, and the
flowered turf of summer; hares

Moving across the
crescent corn in spring,

Wide spaces! Then your
room, quiet and enclosed,

Serene with growing
things; autumnal warmth

To cold; lamps haloed
in the murk and winter's

Driving rain.

But always is
the bond imperishable,

The proffered ring; the
symbol, sign and key

Bacchus to Ariadne
gave; and stars,

Th' experience by which
our love is crowned,

The gift of Venus to
the naked self,

As in the grave and
sensuous art

Of Tintoretto.

Lechlade, May 12th, 1956

For
Mary

Come, love, leave the
throng and press

To share with me your
separateness;

Walk through the dusty
crowded street

To find our private,
quiet retreat,

And in our room make
the catch fast

Until the hours of
night are passed.

What can I say, what
can I do

Which can express my
love for you?

What image can I use,
what art

To tell the stirring of
my heart?

My finger tip to trace
your eye,

My lips that on your
forehead lie,

My forearm for a
pillow's stead

To bear the weight of
your dear head!

The fears that gather
as I press

My love, my lamb, my
happiness!

Mary, dear heart, I
have come home

And Plato's apple is at
one.

The curtains show the
light of day,

But our world's from
the world away.

Newbury, April 15th, 1957

May
Hill

Then I went up the path
alone

And thought of all that
we have done.

The meadows, moorland,
Down and hill,

The purple mountains
calm and still;

The buzzards mewing
overhead,

The peewits on their
earthy bed;

The hares swift-moving
on their path,

The kettle boiling on
nits hearth.Our England's beauty, which we found

In stone, in colour,
sky and sound;

Her houses, churches,
houses – all

Her legacy historical.

The Alpine peaks with
icy crown,

The saffron in the
meadow strown:

The mountain valleys
far from men,

That we have sought and
found again.

The heights achieved
for which we strove

To add new facets to
our love.

“Then, tell me, what
is wealth?” I asked,

As through my mind the
memories passed.

'To hear upon this
autumn hill

The sound of your voice
calling still:

And faith which knows
that you will come

However far I am from
home.'

October 9th, 1957

Mary

You are the memory of a
hundred joys,

Joys because you were
there,

Illumined, sunset
golden

Free from care.

You are the rainbow in
the sky,

The cowslip in the
grass,

The secret combe;
across the hills,

The hidden pass.

As noon walks on the
Downs,

The ascending lark;

At dusk the incised
trail,

Out-staring dark.

You are the enclosed
place,

The answer found,

The heart of stillness

And the trumpet's
sound.

You are Demeter's
earth,

Myth deep, alive,

To nourish, warm
enfold,

And man revive.

Your are my journey's
end;

As pilgrim shrine,

My spirit urgent,
faithful,

Seeking thine.

Droitwich, December, 1957

To
Mary, with gratitude and love

Bed-bound and weary
here I lie,

But watch the trees
against the sky.

Tied by the legs, I can
yet see

The sunset's dying
pageantry.

The water, brought from
far away,

Speaks to me always of
that day

In Elan's valley, where
we stood

Clasped arm in arm to
watch its flood.

Westward wind, which
agitates the trees,

Tells me of other
scenes than these!

The sheep-cropped turf,
the mountains black,

The torrents and the
climbing track.

Oh Mary by your love
give me

The faith to hope one
day to see

The buzzards circling
o'er the moor,

The curlews calling
from the shore.

Woodlands Hospital, Birmingham, February 21st, 1958

[The author,
following a particularly severe attack of sciatica, was lying in bed
with weights on the end of his legs, being stretched in order to
release a pinched sciatic nerve. It was a long and extremely
unpleasant treatment, but it worked. He never had trouble with
sciatica again)

A
New Land

Over the close turf of
the curving down

Where the hares chased
and played in windy March

We wandered hand in
hand for the brief hours

We had together.

Below us in the gap the
winding Thames,

Broad and majestic from
the Cliveden heights,

Was terrace-crowned; or
beech-topped Wittenham climbed

We saw the Ridgeway's
line.

But now our land is
changed. The little streams

Crossing the wolds,
Windrush and Evenlode,

The orange ploughlands
gleaming wet in spring,

Houses and churches
alchemized to gold,

The lights below us in
the return at night,

Tells us of home.

Yet still we bring to
our new land two hearts

That have not changed
and still possess their past.

Adlestrop, Christmas, 1960

The Swallows

The wolds are sleeping
wrapped in grey

Under the wintry sky,

The Sun moves low at
noon to where

The day will early die.

I cannot bring the
swallos back

Before the cowslips
blow;

I cannot warm your hand
with mine

If both are chilled
with snow.

So I will hang a token
where

It will foretell the
spring

And warm you heart with
thoughts of May

And swallow on the
wing.

Adlestrop, Christmas, 1963

For Mary on January
24th twenty three years later

Hold to the past! We
cannot go

Beyond its ebb and
flow.

We only certainly
possess

Experience's gold,
impress

Of courage long ago.

He: Oh let me lie
against our breasts

And see the mountains'
sunset crests

Above the fields of
snow.My hand along your curving though

Traces the Down against
the sky

And gently rests below.

He: Upon her quilt of
green and red

Is stretched Demeter on
her bed.

High high above her
from the air

I see the secret places
clear,

And as I move across
the sky

Rise up her mountains
swellingly.Thus as you stir below beneathI feel your every
inward breath.

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

Tuesday, Jan 1st, 1974 - Busy re-adjusting shelves in my bedroom and re-arranging books, of which I have 700!

Friday,
Jan 4th -Cheltenham. Poured with rain, cold wind. No phone came on till
2 p.m. and banks and W. H. Smith lit only by candles and torches, quite
dark.

Monday,
Jan 7th - Tonight Hall Committee. Managed at last to get rid of
chairmanship which very reluctantly was pushed on to Mr Boulter.

Friday,
Jan 11th - Cheltenham for lunch and to fetch Mary after hairdresser.
First time left alone for a year. A great treat to be able to talk to
Cherry on my own phone instead of from a call box as generally. A
tremendous storm last night about 1.30 a.m. Thunder, lightning and
hurricane wind. Much damage in the west country.

Saturday,
Jan 12th - Stow. Damage to elmtree in the square. Rang C, found husband
with her flat had left unmarried girl and she had kept C up till 2 a.m.
telling her her life story - “the permissive society with a vengeance,”
said C.

Tuesday,
Jan 15th - Mr Dockar at Clanfield told me Catherine was stopping next
week. Would I take Philip four days a week for two hours at a time. Said
I would think about it and let him know on Friday and go round to Vi
Worgan to ask how to teach reading. An Oxford degree fits a man for
anything!

Thursday,
Jan 17th - Met C in Burford. She had had flu and was not very well. We
had rum and coffee at the Mermaid. The motel was warm and plenty of hot
water.

Friday,
Jan 18th - Last lesson with Catherine. She was polite! Said she enjoyed
my lessons and thanked me. Took on Philip. It will be hard work.

Thursday, Jan 24th - Anniversary of our walk on the Downs in 1940. Gave Mary some flowers and chocolates.

Friday,
Jan 25th - Graham had been up mending Roberts’ furniture. Mary remarked
he must not often have seen such a peculiar house, with plumbing
allegedly done by the Cowley Fathers! He replied he had once been sent
by Mr Hessell to a house in Bledington where they found a very old lady
digging a hole in the garden to bury her sister. They reported this to
Mr Hessell who managed to arrange a cut-price funeral.

Monday,
Jan 28th - Mick McGahey, a fool of a Scots communist leader of the
miners in Scotland has said that the army in case of a miners strike
would refuse to move coal because they are working class, thereby giving
the government and the middle class just the propaganda line they
want. Colonel Grivas, whom Hilary chased in Cyprus, has died in a hide
out there.

Wednesday,
Feb 6th - Snow! but only a slight fall. Breakfast in bed. Phoned
Italia Mundo and Venice in Peril. Mary stonewalled. She did not want to
go to Venice in April, last visit a failure because cold. Did not want
to go except with a party where everything was arranged and she was
taken care of. She had been given a bad room, it was noisy. The
hoteliers only cared for parties. Parties were transported from the
airport to the hotel. We both got angry. She because she said I would
not listen. I because only the snags were mentioned and never by any
chance did she express pleasure that I was proposing to take her and
pay!

We
have had a miners overtime ban and weeks of negotiations between the
government and the N.U.M. Mr Wilson and the T.U.C. have fallen over
backwards to try to find an escape hatch for Heath, all to no effect.
Now we are to get a full scale strike on Saturday and seems likely an
election later. I have been here before as a young schoolmaster among
the true blue housemasters [at St John’s, Leatherhead] in 1925 with that
old rogue Baldwin and the miners. I shall not be caught again in 1974.
Graham Kitchin supports the miners, said if they paid them enough ‘the
Blackies’ would go down the mines and thus help to recruit miners to the
wasting labour force. We shall see.

The
dirt about the comprehensives is coming out. Locally at Bicester and
still more at Tulse Hill lefty teachers are said to tell pupils that no
good working as there is no future for them in society as now organized.

Thursday,
Feb 7th - Election to be at the end of the month. Mr Healey said the
government reminded him of the more brutish of the Hanoverians. Called
the government “bacteria”.

Saturday,
Feb 9th - Tried to discuss foreign holiday with Mary but only got every
possible and impossible objection. In the end managed to sell her 4
days in Tours with chateaux on the Loire with Clarksons.

Monday,
Feb 18th - To Oxford by train from Kingham to get into shape for
chateaux. .....Walked to station for 4.15, very foot weary. Arrived at
Kingham, found I had left side lights on and battery flat. Mary had to
go to Mrs O’Hara’s to get her sons to put charge through battery, when
got home rather disturbed. “What the old man needs is not a wife but a
nanny!”

Thursday, Feb 28th - Voted for Liberal candidate, who was at any rate a local man.

Friday,
March 1st - Snow and cold so decided to stay at home and have dinner
out and see what the weather’s like tomorrow - to fuck in our own
bedroom which is probably warmer and more comfortable. A half bottle of
Sauterne for lunch and some flowers for Mary.

By
5.30 the commentators still going though rather jaded and sore eyed.
Labour had a majority over Tories of 5! but said they are ready to form a
government. Now waiting to see what Mr Heath and the Palace will do.

Celebrated our 1940 anniversary by going over to dinner at the Manor House Hotel, Moreton-in-the-March.

Saturday,
March 2nd - At breakfast learnt that Heath to try to form an
anti-socialist coalition with Liberals. I voted Liberal to get Heath,
whom I detest, out. Tory 296, Labour 300, Liberal 12, Unionists 10.

Monday,
March 4th - Write Vicar of Tewkesbury to say would like to have a chair
in memory of Molly, who died 10 years ago. Do not know whether £10 or
£15! Two letters from C at Stow P.O. Heard at six o’clock that Heath
leaving shortly to resign office and Mr Wilson to be sent for. Hurray!
Miners strike will be settled, country get back to work, and loan
negotiated. The wild men will be kept in check and I hope Roy Hattersley
and his ‘Close public schools’ plans will be put in cold storage.
Pension I hope raised.

Tuesday,
March 5th - Heath booed and jeered when he left No 10 last night.
Healey exchequer, Callaghan Foreign O, Jenkins Home Sec, Foot
employment. He’s a wild man!

“Misunderstanding
and misunderstood - those words will do on his premiership....People
never grasped that he was a sensitive and shy man, brusque more out of
gaucheness than arrogance - his failure to communicate as a man and as a
leader.” The Guardian.

All / We shall recall / Of Heath / Is his teeth.

Tuesday, March 12th - Dockars. Trousers down by roadside when lorry stopped and asked ‘Do you need any help, sir?’

Friday,
March 29th - At last got rid of the Parish Meeting chairmanship, which I
have had for nine years, landed on me by Scaramanga. Now he is chairman
again and an eager beaver as secretary. It went on for 45 minutes, the
usual hopeless projects, levelling Tattles, bus shelters etc, and the
usual Durhams and Casses!

Thursday,
April 4th - To Oxford to meet C, wrist in plaster, cut forehead,
discoloured eyes, but driving car. Went to Blenheim and had lunch by
lake. Tea from automatic machinery in new tea room. Then to Yarnton
church, most interesting and fine monuments glass and reredos. To Trout
for drinks and sandwiches.

Tuesday,
April 9th - To Cheltenham station and a day ticket to Bristol. Taxi
man’s joke: ‘To Great Britain, please.’ ‘You are in Great Britain.’ In
dry dock, huge expanse of riveted plates in interior, angle irons of
immense strength and fine lines. Walk round to one, then sausages and
mash and ice cream in dock café. Ring for taxi. To Cathedral, a good
Norman chapter house and restored and coloured east end. Home by 3.30
and back 5.30. Mary gardening, ring C to ask what hospital said. Caught
out. The usual row, the whole thing blown up to enormous proportions. A
little reason and a little less emotion would be helpful.

Thursday,
April 11th - Visit Roberts. Margaret in retreat, Cil cooking. Mrs
Roberts remembered Lord Salisbury and Gladstone and her mother reading
Trollope aloud. The two girls would creep up with their sewing to
listen.

Easter
Sunday, April 14th - To Tewkesbury. Hedges in some places in full leaf.
Lots of daffodils. Abbey very full and large men’s choir. New bishop of
Tewkesbury there but he preached a poor sermon and I thought him
probably a career bishop. Asked Mr Leach about cost of chair. Said it
would be about £14 and would be in the Lady Chapel.

Sunday,
April 21st - Cuckoo early after tea. Reading Diary to Mary. Said I
always read criticisms of her and never anything nice!

Friday,
April 26th - Alarm at 6.30. Feel at last minute less keen to go. Ring
Cil. She is up and will take us to Kingham.Station at 8 o’clock for
8.33. Train draws in as cross bridge. Watch 10 minutes slow. Paddington
10.30. Buffet for sandwiches and coffee. Taxi to Finchley Road air
terminal. Coach on M1 at 70 m.p.h. to Luton airport. Airport packed with
milling crowds. Our plane a huge 146 seater with 4 turbo jet Rolls
Royce engines. Soon touched down in Tours airport. Mainly military.
Luggage immediately put on coach and off round Tours. Driver ‘Robert’
and courier ‘Helen’. Crossed the Loire by one of the new bridges and
stopped a minute at St Gatien Cathedral - tall French Gothic with a good
deal of glass. Then to Hotel Terminus at side of station, which has a
most imposing facade and concourse. Room 20 on second floor. Our room
quiet, looking into small interior courtyard. Glassed door to basics,
bidet and shower. PIllow for Mary but cover damp. Service slack! At 7.0
party assembles and we go round to Café St Hubert in main shopping
street 200 yards away. St Hubert was jungly - tropical plants painted on
walls, potted palms, stuffed heads including most ferocious boar’s head
in the entrance. It was however very efficient and good wine,
Montlouis, very dry white.Home looking at shops, hopelessly expensive, and to bed.

Saturday,
April 27th - Down for breakfast at 8. Plum jam but not much butter. Off
opposite station on coach down the dyke built by Henri II, Count of
Anjou, to Amboise. Built high on a bluff above the Loire up which we
climbed by a ramp and staircase. It was half medieval castle, half
residence. We stood in a perishing wind by the chapel in which
Leonardo’s body is buried under a plain wooden slab. We then went
through the Renaissance wing which gave out on a round tower with fine
views over the bridge town and river. The chapel was dedicated to St
Hubert and the turret bore stone stag horns.

To
Chenonceau, walked up a fine avenue with a sight of the chateau at the
end. A Renaissance chateau built on the foundations of a water mill and
extended over the Cher in a gallery 65 yards long. Associated with
Francis I and Diane de Poitiers and Catherine de Medici, Mary Stuart,
the graffiti of her Scots guard were shown us. It had an attractive
chapel, alas bombed in 1944 and hideous modern substituted. After
rambling round we walked in the garden to see the gallery from the
outside and then back to the coach.

Afternoon
free so we took a taxi to the Cathedral and wandered round. A wedding
in process which took a very long time and the priest gave a very long
address. Glass, especially East windows, good. Art Gallery next door, ex
Archbishop’s Palace, a lot of 18th paintings of not much interest.

Sunday,
Sept 28th - A full day. Station square was empty. Off early to Azay le
Rideau. This I thought the best of the chateaux. Furnished with
contemporary beds, furniture, tapestries - the red room, the green room,
etc etc, very tastefully - fine huge stone fireplaces. Next to Abbey
of Fontevraut. Huge. More than one community under an abbess, royal of
course! The church was a fine Norman building with a lovely apse.The
royal tombs of the Plantagenets were on the South, one wood and all
faintly coloured. The whole place had once been a prison but the idea
now to turn it into a centre of medieval studies.

We
had lunch at a humble restaurant near the abbey. They had laid
themselves out to please and produced a very good mean indeed. After
lunch to Villandry to see the formal garden. Miles of box hedges,
clipped by hand, interesting rather than beautiful. For our last meal we
went to the Hotel de Bordeaux near at hand for a 25 franc dinner and
very good it was. With coffee had a large Benedictine which was perhaps
not wise.

Monday,
April 29th - An early start after packing and vacating room on a long
drive to Blois. A large chateau, renaissance detail, much information
about the Guises, C de Medici and so on. Back to station restaurant and
off to Vouvray for a wine tasting. Tramped through the caves, saw the
stocks of wine bottles, thought of Cyril Peach and I in Rheims in 1938.

Alas,
when we reached Tours Airport we were told there was a “mechanical
hitch” and the plane had not left from London so that it was two hours
or more late. The plane did the crossing in an hour flat. Our taxi at
Kingham was there all right and we got home about 10 o’clock. Mr Badger
was out but when he returned registered pleasure.

Monday, April 30th - Told Mary I was meeting C Thursday.

Wednesday, May 1st - The usual row blew up. C abused as usual and grievances against us both given an hour’s airing

.

Thursday,
May 2nd - Reflections on France. 1) Touraine country very beautiful. 2)
Chateaux primarily occupied because built on rivers for sewage! 3)
French since 1956 pleasanter and sanitation has improved, now compares
very favourably with Burford, Oxon! 4) What a great and varied country
France is! 5) How terribly expensive, no wonder they do trips to Marks
& Spencers in Dover! 6) Wish I could speak French more fluently.

Monday,
May 6th - Off to Garsington Manor. Arrival coincided with village
junior school with a party of “nickers”. We were welcomed by Lady
Wheeler Bennett, rather raddled and made up. The garden interesting.
There was a patio with seats in front of the house, very sheltered,
where in Lady Ottoline’s time the wits disported themselves. Must have
another look at

Wednesday, May 9th - Vi told Mary Henry Carde the dirtiest man in the Cotswolds. You could see the fleas on his chest!

Wednesday,
May 15th - To Blenheim Palace; Paymaster General sends me a certificate
from which I can see that my pension less tax amounts to £764.

Saturday,
May 18th - By 8.20 Cheltenham to queue for coach with National Trust
ladies. To Longleat. To Lions’ Entrance. Wait. Told one and half hours
to go round, so ate lunch - luckily. Went very slowly, 3 m.p.h. through
estate. Giraffes, hippos, elephants, wildebeest, gazelles, monkeys. Then
lions and cheetahs. So familiar with films of African wildlife that
appearance hardly a surprize, but good to see them free and breeding
apparently freely. Tramped around the house just ahead of following
party. Some good portraits and dresses. Last at Longleat from Wells in
1960. How time flies!

Rate demand to day. Up from £63 to £96. All over county complaints and some refusing to pay.

Tuesday,
May 21st - Philip more than usually stupid. When shown horse chestnut
spike, said it grew tomatoes. Why do I go on! Answer: holidays abroad.

Monday,
May 27th - Geoff and Margaret Makins, his new wife, came to a
vegetarian lunch. She was a blue-eyed, fair eye-lashed Yorkshire girl,
very talkative, a librarian at Malton. I liked her. Geoff I had not seen
for 17 years. He had got plumper and had scanty black curly hair which
he allowed to grow long. Geoff, 59, looking forward to retire from
Malton comprehensive. He rather agrees with Michael Collard about the
uncivilized tone of the bulk.

Tuesday,
May 28th - A letter from Lise. She finds Grandma’s visit very trying
and says Hilary will not play and goes off. Wants to write before Nora
returns and starts organizing!

Wednesday,
May 29th - Cil drove us to Cheltenham Station. Train an hour late from
Yorkshire, but a relief train from Birmingham. When we showed our Golden
Card, the collector almost genuflected and the ‘controller’ (alias
stationmaster) was fetched to ring Bristol to find out if the train was
continuing to Exeter. It was He returned to show us into a first class
apartment which we had to ourselves to Exeter. The ‘the Cornishman’
caught us up after about 45 minutes. Our reserved seats were waiting and
we continued our journey over Brunel’s viaduct, now flanked by the
modern and higher road bridge, through Cornwall with its cuttings,
tunnels and viaducts to St Erth, where we changed for St Ives. Even here
a courier was waiting for us with a large ‘Golden Card’ label to see us
over the bridge. We reached St Ives where we found our names on a taxi
list and we arrived at Garth Guest House (evening meal optional!). It
had large windows, a blue decor, houseplants and stuffed animals - no
gnomes! We had a nice but hookless bedroom looking over St Ives’ Bay.
Evening meal 6.45, boy and girl and two frizzled mums, and
representative from Nottingham with a wife with a prominent nose
repeated in three children. Carbis Bay, where we had landed up, is a
bungalow town about 2 miles outside St Ives. After supper walked among
the bungalows, which appeared to be uninhabited. Felt depressed.

Thursday,
May 30th - To bus park, then down to church, enormous crowds and even
bigger lines of cars going down to harbour. Quay consists mostly of gift
shops and fish & chips. Sunny but a high wind. Sat in lea of
harbour wall till time to go to fish and chippery self-service. Church
interesting, a flower festival and a Barbara Hepworth Madonna.
Discovered a quiet back street café, the Blue Haven (guest house shut
11-4!. In p.m. by buses reached Pool, where we found two mining engines,
in possession of the National Trust, boldly signposted. Back to cream
tea at Blue Haven. Tomorrow St Michael’s Mount.

Friday,
May 31st - Salad lunch at Blue Haven - excellent. Coach to Marazion.
Launch for Mount, for which we had to wait for party, conducted by
bearded naval type with quarterdeck voice. He addressed the party of
about 70 as ‘pilgrims’ and we were in for ‘a steep ascent to heaven’.
However, with a heart pill I made it all right to the summit with good
views, wild flowers and chapel where the guide spread himself on corpses
walled up etc. Extricated ourselves from ‘the pilgrims’ and beat it
down to the quay and the mainland and a cream tea.

Saturday,
June 1st - Bus to St Erth, train to Truro. Taxi to Cathedral. Min. of
Environment exhibition in South Chapel, excellent. Egg salad at
‘Avocado’. Museum shut till 2 o’clock. When open was good and not too
many stuffed birds.

Two
new couples appeared, 1) a criminal looking type and silly fiancee from
B’ham, 2) a dour Yorkshire boy who communicated in grunts with his
blonde wife, in a sports car. Both most uncivilized. We had supper to
pop played from the lounge!

Sunday,
June 2nd - The taxi man (Roy) out. The old toothless crone opposite
said we should go with the red minibus driven by his brother (Roy)
taking Catholics to Mass. This we did with a collection of old biddies.
We got in just after the sermon. The parish church was packed. Two
elderly babies were baptized. There was a sea fog, overcast and inclined
to drizzle, so we decided to pass the afternoon with a coach trip to
Coverak, quiet and peaceful, gaily coloured boats, blue, green, white
and grey n tiny harbour. No pop at supper, but silly dark girl tended to
sing!

Monday,
June 3rd - To St Ives by bus. Photographed Barbara Hepworth ‘Copper
Holes’ outside Town Hall and plaque of 1549 western rising on R.C.
church. Low tide. Sit on beach in sun til lunch at Blue Haven. After
lunch coach trip to Lands End. Coach fills with Yorkshire and Midland
“frizzles”. Avuncular driver with a loud speaker. He made silly jokes
which were greeted with shrieks of laughter by the “frizzles, whom he
addressed as “children”. Passed Culrise helicopter training station used
by G.B., France and Germany. Here we saw the once dreaded black cross
of the LuftWaffe on the German helicopters. E.E.C. in action. Shades of
1940!

Lands
End is too vast to get crowded in spite of coaches and cars. We sat and
watched the seas break over the Long Ships and the Armed Knight as
Molly and I had done 40 years ago. The Wolf Rock lighthouse was clearly
visible, the Scillies less so. Mary was fascinated and impressed by the
extensive view. Back by coast road to Zennor where much play was made
with story of mermaid on bench end.

Tuesday,
June 4th - With the same driver who alas told as the same jokes as we
had heard yesterday to Kynance Cove. Magnificent. Giant granite steps
put up by N.T. which did not make it any easier. Went nearly down but
couldn’t get to café near beach. Lovely flowers and the sand and green
and blue Cornish sea. Molly in 1928 when we stayed at Mullion. To
Lizard. Rather poor café for lunch. To lighthouse, then sat against a
bank for the light was blinding. To Mullion, walked down to cove and met
junior school coming up. Walked on pier and then had cream tea.

Wednesday,
June 5th - Taxi to station. At Truro an American enquired if this was
stopping at Derby. Found out it was and had a very interesting
conversation and tea with him. He was a computer engineer and this was
his fourth visit to Britain. Irish American, lived in Los Angeles. He
was changing at Derby to see Lincoln Cathedral. The best type of
American. We agreed it would be best for Britain to be one state of the
United States of Europe! Home at six o’clock.

Cornwall
40 years on 1931 - 1974. 1) The multiplication of cars and auxiliary
services, garages, parking places, petrol stations, but roads except
motorways hardly touched, high banks, narrow and winding. 2)
Holidaymakers in 1931 middle class, 1974 working class, from Midlands by
car, from Yorkshire by through train Leeds to Penzance. Dress: trousers
for women however middle-aged and fat. Food - chips, dried peas, beans.
Amusements: vulgar postcards, cheap souvenirs and pop music, esp
teenagers. 3) Multiplication of cheap guesthouses, bed and breakfast,
all meals optional, H & C in all bedrooms. Though I am a man of the
left, I do not fancy teenage couples at close quarters! Their speech,
eating habits, ‘musak’, and noise most uncivilized! Must I suppose be a
middle class old codger.

Saturday,
June 15 - Anticyclone - heat and sunshine after earlier arctic winds of
up to force 7.0. Watering spinach, lettuces, peas, beans. Then at 10 to
Rare Breeds Park at Guiting. A 14-man television crew from BBC, with
cameras and movable platforms and much cable, taking shots of young
reindeer and stag with proprietor.

Saturday,
June 22nd - To Sherborne Park village fete in Sherborne House in aid of
village and Wild Life Fund. House open so was able to show Mary where I
taught in the palmy days of Mosey. About 500 in the grounds, mostly
dirty bearded men and women in long skirts, and how they smelled!
Wondered what Mother and Father would have made of the scene.

At
any rate I found Sherborne was occupied by the ‘International Academy
for Continuous Education’ so thought I would write for prospectus.

Sunday,
June 23rd - Latest student story. St Pauls College, Cheltenham, have
some handsome polished oak tables in the refectory. Students complained.
They wanted Bakelite. Principal gave them Bakelite tops, but retained
old table for staff. Students objected on grounds that this “socially
divisive”. These are the teachers of the future. What a hope!

Saturday,
June 29th - Cheltenham 9.30. N.T. trip to Castlecombe and Corsham. A
coach load of chattering women; had a bawling one next to me on rear
seat of coach. Castlecombe a pleasant village of weavers’ houses round a
church in valley bottom flanked by hanging woods, but not I thought a
patch on our Cotswold villages. Home about 9, quite exhausted by heat
and female chatter.

Sunday,
June 30th - Off at 9.15 to Christ Church, Oxford, for ordination
service [David Meara]. Went well. Prayer Book of 1662 which Bishop read
very well indeed. After service a family reunion. Did not much care for
wives, David’s a dwarf, Richard’s a rather superior dame who made no
effort to be pleasant.

Wednesday,
July 3rd - To Oxford. Broad Street café. Here Nora, looking very wild
with white hair. Lunch. Nora as usual does not really listen to what you
say as she is on to the next things. Thinks Jacob will have aesthetic
interests, beauty, music, dancing, and is very clever.

Friday, July 5th - Booked on lane to Copenhagen on July 26th.

Sunday,
July 7th - Friends of Tewkesbury. A good day. High mass with an
inaudible preacher. A.G.M. of Friends. Did not take long. Assistant
architect told me 1) Norman pillars not filled with rubble, 2) Abbey
building local stone, not Coln, 3) C15 glazing supports mullion windows,
not vice versa.

Monday,
July 8th - An hour’s futile committee of the hall, of which thank God I
am no longer chairman. It took an hour to decide whether to do the
floor.

Friday,
July 19th - Lying down after tea, fine looking man in walking boots, no
collar on, turned up. Had been advised to call but couldn’t remember by
whom. Finally Mary suggested Father Littledale, which was correct. He
was Fr. Fitzgibbon S.J. from Chipping Norton. Very interested in
historic Catholic centres. Very civilized and intelligent. Athletic -
squash, tennis, running and walking. Gave him a glass of sherry and he
set off to walk back to Chippy.

Wednesday,
July 21th - To concert in Guiting Power village hall. Sold out. The
nobility and gentry in full force. Some sonatas, then Schubert’s
unfinished and the Emperor. This was a mistake. The orchestra was too
close and loud and the soloist gave an insensitive rendering. One of my
pupils from Cokethorpe was there, Christopher Davis, and was going to
R.A.D.A. Luckily Mary remembered seeing him in the school play.

The
Geek fascist generals have seized power in Nicosia and tried to capture
Archbishop Makarios, but he got away by RAF plane to London and then to
UNO in New York. The Turks had their airborne troops on the ready and
have invaded Eastern Cyprus where the Turkish Cypriots mostly live. The
Greeks have proclaimed as president a gangster Hilary used to hunt
without success, Nikos Sampson

Tuesday,
July 23rd - Oxford. Cherry very tired with exams and guests. Slip of
tongue after a bottle of Sauterne, addressed her by the wrong Christian
name, cf Con and Nora. She got out of bed, dressed, flung key on shelf
and went off. Rang Kathy who asked me to lunch tomorrow. (July 24th)
Kathy delightful, helpful and sympathetic listened to my woes.
Apologized, after all not adolescent but old gent of over 70!

The fascist government dismissed in Greece. Same in Cyprus and Nicos Samson out. Cease fire in force.

Friday,
July 26th - 9.51 for Reading, then airport bus to Heathrow. Copenhagen
4.40. When emerge Hilary and Nicholas waiting. His old car so old had
hired green Volkswagen. Off at a fast drive to Hove Mark where we arrive
about 6.30. Occupy matrimonial double bed, but no light other than
bedhead with most awkward switch. Bathroom dark and badly lit, switch on
outside, and extraordinary tap. To get water you depressed tap like a
joystick, to control temperature of water, hot to left, cold to right;
To stop move tap up! Found ‘duvets’ far too hot, pillow far too small.
Not a comfortable night.

Saturday,
July 27th - Went round the estate. The house of one story, partly
thatched, partly roofed with corrugated asbestos, was built round three
sides of a square forming a large cobbled courtyard. The family occupied
one side; dining room, kitchen, sitting room all opening on to one
another without any corridors. If Mary left the bedroom door open you
could see it from the entrance! The unconverted cowshed and piggery were
used for storing hay and junk for reconstruction. The boys occupied two
small bedrooms off the sitting room. Hilary had a small office filled
with piles of newspapers off the occupied wing.

Outside
they were making a lawn and flower bed, 12 geese wired into a small
orchard and there were 15 ducks on a round pond. There were the remains
of old carts and farm wagons in various states of decay. A mother sheep
and two lambs were tethered to ropes to keep them out of the farmers’
wheat and barley which surrounded the estate. They had brought with them
their nice collie, Tasha, and a black and white cat from Copenhagen.
Two wild farm cats in semi starving condition lurked in the courtyard;
There was also a white rat-like guinea pig in a box in the entrance. He
was let out and hid under the furniture, emerging if you made the right
cheeping noise, which I was unable to do. Hilary and Nicholas had
cleared and dug a patch for vegetables and were growing beans, lettuce,
onions etc. The soil was light and sandy in character but contained
large stones of volcanic origin deposited I suppose by the ice sheet.

In
the afternoon we were taken in the hired car to see the Viking Camp at
Trelleborg. A number of Danish visitors. Very interesting, built near a
stream leading to the Great Belt. Alas, coming back the car engine
failed. It would only run for short periods in low gear and we were
lucky to get home in it. Excellent meals cooked by Lise and wine at most
meals!

Sunday,
July 25th - No car working so had to stay put. Walked round farm in the
morning. In Denmark as in the Fens you are very conscious all the time
of the sky and the clouds because the horizon of the flat country is so
low. looking round the horizon we counted 25 farmstead across the hedges
and rather treeless landscape. In the afternoon we visited the nearest
farm, inspected the piggery and drank sherry in the parlour with the
farmer and his cigar-smoking wife.

Monday,
July 29th - A bit worried about catching the plane. To miss it would
cost another £100!! The car hire firm had promised another car, but it
never turned up, so a friend of Lise’s drove us to Slagelse Station,
where we got a fast train to Copenhagen. Hilary piloted us through the
crowded streets and and traffic to the air terminal and with luck we
just caught a waiting bus to the airport! By the time we had registered
our luggage and walked the lengthy corridors, helped by an escalator, to
the right bay, the passengers were embarking!! Mrs O’Hara was waiting
with her taxi at Kingham and we finally reached home about 11 p.m.
pretty tired with the long journey. Mr Badger was in and gave us a great
welcome, but there was a note from Vi to say he had been ‘a wily old
man’ and refused to come in at night, so had spent some nights out as a
free pussy, but had come to no harm.

Saturday,
Aug 3rd - A hard day. Off at 8.20 to Cheltenham for National Trust
coach to Litchfield. Noon Cathedral. We were shown round by the Dean,
but divided into two parties and got a dull and poor guide. He was
inaudible anyway and it did not help that there were two lecturers. I
hoped to see St Chad’s Gospel, AD 720, but the librarian was out.
Cathedral restored by Scotts 1856-1908, pretty well a new building,
reminded us of Truro. It had previously been used by the Puritans in the
civil war but fell to ruin in the C18. Off to Staunton Harold old
church, Laudian, built by an unrepentant loyalist, Robert Shirley, in
1653 “when all things sacred...were demollisht or profaned”, meaning the
hated Cromwell, who put him in the Tower, where he died aged 27. As
Cromwell remarked, what was spent on that church could have paid a
regiment!!

We
then made for Melbourne Hall about three miles away. Here we were shown
round the house by the housekeeper, who was a very bad guide, slow,
diffuse and snobbish. By the time we trooped up to Melbourne’s bedroom
felt like fainting. However in the end we emerged and tottered to the
Stable tea-room.

Sunday, Aug 6th - Spent day recovering from yesterday’s excursion. Woke up to pouring rain, first for six weeks.

Tuesday,
Aug 6th - To Hatford. A board ‘For Sale’ at church gate but no buyers
as must agree to maintain churchyard, say Ecclesiastical Commissioners.

Wednesday, Aug 7th - Nixon confessed to Americans he had lied to them and now faces impeachment.

Thursday, Aug 8th - Motel 11. C arrived later. Both delighted to meet after fortnight. It all passed off easily.

Friday,
Aug 9th - Nixon resigned at 5 o’clock our time. Newscasters, poor
chaps, up all night. Did not sit up but heard speech on 7 o’clock news.
Not a very good speech. All the emphasis on respecting his duty to the
U.S, but admitted ‘mistakes have been made’. New president, Ford, sworn
in. Dull and pedestrian but safe. Reminded of St Joan. “What scoundrels
these English nobles are!” “All secular power makes people scoundrels.
They are not trained for the work.” New Yorker’s comment: “Nixon did
nothin’ that nobody else didn’t do, but he got caught.”

Sunday, Aug 11th - To musical mass at Tewkesbury. After mass saw Molly’s chair which I had presented in Lady Chapel.

Tuesday,
Aug 13th - To Reading by train. David Meara in lay attire met us. A
nice little semi, light and clean, brass rubbings. Rosemary at work.
Winnie and Gwynn turned up from Pinner. Lovely lunch, chops, veg,
meringues and peaches and cream. After lunch in David’s car to
Strathfieldsaye to the see the Wellington house open to the public this
summer. I was expecting something like Blenheim, but the deco was
Victorian and it was positively squalid with busts of emperors in
gunmetal and wall papered with what appeared o be news cuttings.

Thursday,
Aug 22nd - Woodstock for coffee in museum, then to Pear Tree. When I
was sitting in the bath facing C I suddenly had a kind of vision and
realized in a flash how beautiful she was.

Saturday,
Aug 24th - Went up to Stow to see the tourists on the way south and
west before the bank holiday. Many strange types. On way back called at
Icomb to see flower display illustrating hymns in the church.
Particularly struck with red flowers and two sabres on 14th century
knight, 1361, just before the beginning of the wars with France,
labelled ‘Fight the good fight’.

Monday,
Sept 2nd. Cheltenham to try to buy gloves for Hilary’s birthday but not
yet in so wrote a letter instead. To Library where wrote an erotic
letter to C. Felt like it! To Bourton dentist, but did not like girls,
waiting room difficult of access and surgery tiny, so all round decided I
would be a gentleman and return to one in Cheltenham with space and
fewer working class clients.

Wednesday,
Sept 4th - By bus Chipping Norton to Birmingham via Stratford, one and
half hours. Arrived at 12.30 at ghastly Midland Red coach station below
Bull Ring. Saw a staircase with sign ‘Forte’s Café’ and went up fearing
worst but it found a good self service and had two chicken curries - not
crowded. Then went out to find New Street station where got taxi to Art
Gallery, where an exhibition of Lombard Art from Milan. This was
excellent. It consisted of Rotunda with six of the finest and largest
pictures, a gallery of architectural and art photographs and four or
five further rooms. You hired a £5 catalogue, which was useless as none
of the pictures were numbered. The chief figure was St Carlo Borromeo.
In all you got a terrific impression of the counter reformation in the
reigns of James 1 and Charles and the strength and range of the
propaganda. We went back by bus - no change, and ticket from automatic
machine which foxed me completely - to the Bull Ring and the café for
tea. We were obviously foreigners by dress and bearing and especially
speech for those in the café and bus queues obviously did not understand
what we said. Nevertheless it was all told and interesting and
rewarding experience.

Thursday,
Sept 12th - Oxford to see Shaw’s St Joan, recommended by Gill. A tiny
almost dwarfish Joan, but very lively and active, preferred her to
Sybil Thorndike (1924) and Celia Johnson (1948). The theatre full of
sixth form comprehensive, some of whom were bored and very noisy,
screeching and shouting and eating in the intervals. No manners. Still a
moving even traumatic experience, felt quite exhausted. How time flies.
I can hardly believe it is 26 years since I saw it with Eric Cunnington
and 50 since Sybil!

Sunday,
Sept 15th - Rang up Michael Collard and asked him to lunch. He arrived
just after 1 o’clock and stayed till 6 p.m. Would like to buy a
labourer’s cottage in the country but has no money for deposit. Doesn’t
want to leave the comprehensive because he will drop in salary. Says how
terrifying is the violent society, soccer fans etc, in which we live
and it will get worse. Trendy papers excuse it. Asked what trendy
papers. Replied Observer!!!

Saturday,
Sep 21st - Cyril Peach and Kay to tea. Mentally he seemed as good as in
1972, but physically much worse; could only walk a few shuffling steps
from car leaning forward, the doctor thinks he must come to a wheeled
chair as he he is suffering from incipient Parkinson’s disease, 79. Kay,
67, is much older and quieter and has obviously been very worried. They
have bought a bungalow at Seaford and Kay hopes later to move to a
bungalow she has plans for opposite the school, which she does not want
to give up yet. How ghastly old age is.

Sunday,
Sept 29th - To Tewkesbury where Cannon Pouncey preached on ‘Angels’. I
thought he implied that they were a hard sell these days. With great
trepidation told M Apple Tree Dinner next Friday and intended to stay in
Oxford with C, no pretence of staying in college. Said C would look
after me. Seemed to accept it.

Monday,
Sept 30th - Alas, not for long. She blew up and till Friday our usual
sessions of recrimination and complaints. When I told her I did not
intend to return on Saturday at 10 a.m. to take her to Stow worse than
ever, she had to get prescriptions etc etc.

Friday,
Oct 4th - C at Burford. Reached college in good time. Dinner good,
pheasant and delicious Burgundy (Chateau Pomeys 1961). Only one bishop,
Charles Edward. The college had got a huge Burne-Jones from Tate and
hung it across hall high over the entrance. After dinner went rather
wobbling to view it. Left 10.30. C waiting parked outside lodge gate -
escorted out by Maggs.

Saturday,
Oct 5th - Tea, then coffee and rolls. Bath and off at 12 to Keble and
saw picture in hall and new building. Walked down South Parks Road to
Wadham and saw hall. A crowded but good little pub, the Turf, off New
College Lane. Curry which we ate in the open though cold and damp. Then
to Botanical Gardens and sat by char. Told C I would take her in a punt
next summer! Back to the High. Passing Univ, C said she had never seen
the Shelley memorial. “You are going to see it now”. And we did. At 5.30
home. Mary out and house locked. Rejoined C. Home at 9. Extremely happy
with a marvellous day with C. ‘Surprised by joy’ indeed.

Saturday,
Oct 12th - To Sussex to Richard Meara’s wedding. Pulborough 12, where
we had lunch in very cold waiting room. Frost in Cotswolds! Taxi to
Thakeham Church where there was some sun and could see line of Downs
crowned by Chanctonbury Ring. Vicar of Thakeham seemed almost illiterate
and quite incapable of reading English prose! David Meara good. Kingham
11.

Sunday,
Oct 13th - Tried to talk to Mary on the lines 1) not leaving her 2) did
not want time with C cut, but got nowhere, still accused of deceit and
lying, finally floods of tears about Apple Tree Dinner. Richard and
Georgina supposed to be coming to lunch but do not know when.

Tuesday, Oct 15th - They want to come on Thursday!

Wednesday,
Oct 16th - Rang C from home and hurriedly told her meeting to day
instead of tomorrow. To Burford. Waited 11 to 2, but no sign of C.
Finally rang Henley, left message to meet me for dinner at 6. Finally
about 5.45 she drove up. She had misunderstood on phone and thought I
was cancelling. Had a nice meal. A day of dupes.

Thursday,
Oct 17th - M still very cross. M provided a nice lunch and there was a
bottle but restricted to one glass! In p.m. took the pair to the A40
‘Bazaar’ which amazed them. Georgina seems intelligent and capable and
has more social than Rosemary, David’s wife.

Friday, Oct 18th - Rain all day. Wettest October since 1841.

Saturday,
Oct 26th - Row blew up after tea. Mary thought I was trying to cheat
her out of half term holiday because I had suggested next weekend, but
she had not understood this and when she did she raised every possible
objection because I was meeting C on Thursday next, Oct 31st. It would
be “getting out of bed with one and into another etc etc. FInally
compromised on meeting C on Nov 2nd and we go to Castle & Bull
Marlborough on Monday to Thursday. Get double room at £8.11 B&B.

Monday,
Oct 28th - Reached Marlborough about tea time. The Caste & Bull
beautifully warm. Had tea at the Georgian House where we had toast for
breakfast in 1940. A bath

before dinner.

Tuesday,
Oct 29th - Very comfortable double bed. Bought out lunch, veal &
ham pie, and off to Avebury. My God, it was cold! Stopped to look at
sanctuary, then museum. Tried to drive up to Windmill Hill but track too
rutted for car, so went to look at Silbury from road only. Thought how I
and Cherry had our lunch there on Oct 5th, 1955.

Wednesday,
Oct 30th - Was planning to go to Stonehenge but dreaded the plain in
this cold, so caught the 8.55 bus to Salisbury. Found it difficult to
find Close from Market Place and had lost my hat so my head refrigerated
and nearly had to stop. We enjoyed the Cathedral. Some of the tombs had
been recoloured and a man was removing the scratches and graffiti from
an alabaster tomb in the nave. We walked round the East End to the
Cloister, which had made such a deep impression on me as a boy of 14. To
Chapter House to see carvings and to Library to see some lovely
manuscript books and copy of Magna Carta. Back to Marlborough for tea.
Delighted to see Salisbury, which I had always considered the crown of
the C13, once more. Unlike the stupid dean of York, the chapter had
provided adequate loos!

Thursday,
Oct 31st - Hotel bill nearly £40. Bought lunch and along A4 to
Hungerford, then to Lambourn. The Downs magnificent and the vile wind
had dropped and it was sunny. Home for tea.

Saturday,
Nov 2nd - Meet C in Burford. Con writes: “Untrained minds just go round
in circles....why you had not foreseen this and done some education I
don’t know, but the record ‘Rules for Marriage’ seems to have got stuck
in the ‘20s, which is before her time.”

Thursday,
Nov 5th - Last night on news - signal men strike, dustmen ditto, cattle
riots by farmers in Wales, strike of sugar refiners, and world food
shortage partly caused by USSR secretly buying up American harvest for
feed for their own livestock to give Russians more meat!!

Thursday,
Nov 7th - Lunch at the Inn for all seasons with Kathy Watson. She came
from the shop wearing a smock which she removed. Fascinated by her shock
of grey hair and large yes. An Edinburgh woman brought up as a
Calvinist, now R.C. Family connected with Watson’s Grammar School.
Alleged to be very wealthy. Asked me to dinner some time at the Bay
Tree, so perhaps she is!

Tuesday,
Nov 12th - Letter from Hilary. Kissinger asked about his gloom on the
world scene, replied it was like a man who was seasick. When his friends
tell him no one dies of seasickness, he replies it is only the hope of
dying that keeps him alive.

Friday, Nov 15th - “I’m doddery,” I said to John at Dockar’s. “No, you are not doddery, but eccentric,” he replied.

Saturday,
Nov 16th - Lunch at Inn of all seasons. I have found that in back
volumes of Diary price of lunch 10 years or more ago is interesting, so
give cost of lunch: Soup 25p, Cheese roll 35, Coffee 15, Glass of wine
20 = 100p = £1.

At
home third budget makes things a bit easier for industry but withdraws
subsidies from nationalized industries, railways, coal, Post Office etc,
so cost of living will rise and fresh claims for wages will follow.

Reading a huge, heavy horror story, W. L Shirer. Dreadful. Dreadful.

Monday
Nov 18th - Looked at boxes of letters. Cherry has been burning mine.
Reckon I should burn hers. Tonight worked through nine letters, Cherry’s
from before 1968 and Con’s - very moving I found them too.

After
supper Mary would insist on seeing a ghastly Panorama programme on
young delinquents. The courts have no power to punish. I could not look
at it. I do not like to watch civilization being destroyed before your
eyes by these young things and their impoverished parents and ineffective
social workers.

Wednesday,
Nov 27th - Hair cut. Rather surprized to learn from barber that Monday
Cavendish House had had a bomb alert and had to clear out. Also G.P.O.
What are we coming to! Barber rather Len-like. Told me sent for by the
mortuary when he had his own business, in Cirencester, to shave corpses,
but rather surprized when doing it pathologist arrived and slit it down
the middle!

Saturday,
Nov 30th - A cloudy day but better weather promised. Set off with
hickory nuts to Roel but Olive Blackham was either dead or gone away for
the winter. The barn was all padlocked. The weather cleared and we had a
lovely view over the Wolds and saw the hunt in the distance on the
Swell road. After Roel we went down by the Pusedown Pike on A40 via
Northleach to the Inn for all seasons for lunch, soup, Stilton and
rolls, red wine, jam tart and cream, £1.28 each.

Tuesday,
Dec 17th - There has been talk about a world conference with oil
producers but some are frightened of “offending them”, making situation
worse. We are back in the period of appeasement. Opinion that war may
start again but Arabs will once more be defeated. Should the Arabs cut
off oil entirely, U.S. prepared to seize gulf oil and have a naval force
in the Gulf and commandos training under desert conditions in N.
America. Will USSR play ball or sell the Arabs down the river?

Sunday,
Dec 22nd - To the Roberts for tea with a bottle, Chianti for Cil,
Christmas roses excellent this year) for Bertha. Cil very wild and
shaggy, the saintly Margaret less saintly and the old lady in very good
form.

Tuesday,
Christmas Eve - This wonderful invention enabled us on ITV (without
adverts) to attend High Mass in St Peters. The Pope celebrating looked
very old and frail with microphone much in evidence, cardinals,
diplomats, religious etc etc and large milling crowds in the nave.
Epistle read in American English, Gospel in Spanish, Pope’s address in
Italian, Mass in Latin.

Tuesday, Dec 31st - Into Marys bed at 7.30. Stow for coffee and library. Heard from Hilary at last with cheque for £5.

It
was violent again in Ireland and the Near East, bombing in England and
highjacking and taking of hostages by the Arab terrorists. The truce
between Israel and Syria only just holding; the greater part of the
British army in Ulster. At last we have an acceptable president in the
US and negotiations will go on with the Russians for a slackening of
tension.

It
seems doubtful if we have really come to terms with the new weapons the
Arabs now wield. We have not made up our minds about the E.E.C. but
hope the first 6 months of 1975 will decide it. Another thing undecided
is the power and position in the state of the great trade unions.